The grand ball is the grandest event I'd ever seen in my entire seventeen years of age.
Chandeliers, overflowing with sparkling diamonds and literally dripping pure gold, hang elegantly from the ceiling which are at least seventy feet tall.
The entire room is decorated lavishly with silk banners, with expensive tapestries covering every exposed inch of the gold-dusted walls.
Better than all that, there's an impressive ten tier cake that sits atop of a mountain of gourmet dishes that looks like I'd have to sell off my house just to purchase a single dish.
Men that reek of overpriced cologne and women whose faces are caked with makeup dance gracefully across the ball room, their carefully practiced routine nothing short of absolute perfection.
When I look for V, I see him talking with the queen and king. He looks casual and comfortable, but I can see right through his act.
He really wants to get out of there, doesn't he?
Ignoring him forcefully, I head to the rows and rows of tables layered with food, drinks, and even more food. As I get closer to the delicacies with every step I take, the more the bounce in my walk increases. There are exotic dishes from all around the world, from puréed shrimp to caviar ice cream, which pretty much disgusts me.
People would be absolute idiots if they were crazy enough to put caviar and ice cream together.
I stay well away from the wide selection of wines and beers, not just because I'm underage. I hate the sheer smell of it, and when I even get a few feet close, the stench is enough to make me throw up.
Unfortunately to my liking, the music is strictly classical, which bores me faster than my math teacher back at home. Without anything to do, I just sit down on one of the benches and watch the people make a fool out of themselves.
Then my enhanced senses catch a slight shriek.
It's a young girl, about sixteen or the same age as me.
I immediately whip to my feet, and look to where the small sound of resistance had come from.
In the shadows, there are two figures, one significantly smaller than the other. The smaller figure is struggling in the taller one's grip, but her mouth is clapped shut with a hand.
I don't think, I move.
I know how it feels like to be helpless when I'm about to be violated. I know how the fear overwhelms you, shocking you beyond the point where you can't breathe, you can't think. And you don't have a choice— you simply just let it happen to you.
I'll be the one that stops it this time.
I rush to target the man right below his knee joint, immediately taking away his balance and making him crumple to the ground, groaning at the painful impact.
The girl stares at me with bunny-wide eyes as I wave at her to escape. "I'll give you time. Just go!"
At my words, she nods gratefully and runs off into the crowd, leaving me alone with the wincing man.
Then the wind breaks right next to my ear and I duck just in time, thanking my superior reflexes as the man swings at me again.
To my delight, his movements are clumsy and unskillful. He probably depends on his sheer strength and bulk to corner helpless women.
But I'm not helpless.
I'm far from it.
With my right foot, I stomp down hard on his boot, making him stumble momentarily. Snatching that moment, I whip around in a full roundhouse kick, making sure my face is concealed by the dancing shadows as the man slams into the wall harshly.
As I relish at the sound of his back cracking against the wall, I turn to walk out of there when I slip on the unnecessarily long train of my dress.
The silky material is slippery underneath the floor as I collapse on the ground like an amateur idiot, cursing myself for being so clumsy with the dress.
I really don't know how V does that. I still haven't figured it out to this day.
In an instant he's there, pulling me up to my feet and slamming the man against the wall at the same time. My eyes widen as V draws a knife out of absolutely nowhere, deadpan aiming at the man's carotid artery.
Unconsciously, the method he taught me before my hemophobia clouds my mind.
Go for the arteries first. It's the most painful spot you can find, and has the most blood loss as well.
His eyes show no sign of the cool demeanor when I last saw him. Now it's a dark black, sharp and narrowed with rage and tension.
"V-Alexander!" I quickly correct my mistake as I attempt to pull him back.
He doesn't even budge, and neither does the sharp knife against the man's neck.
The man is wide-eyed, frightened beyond imagination when he hears me say the Crown Prince's name. He's trying to ask for mercy, but if his lips move a single centimeter, the knife would probably be in and out of his body before he can even say the m of mercy.
"Alexander!" I say one more time and pull him back more aggressively. With his lips curled into a murderous snarl, V allows me to move him back a few inches.
The man runs as I keep my hold on V. Under my sensitive touch, his body is tight with tension and stretched taut with fury. His skin is cold, which is something he always does before he's ready to kill someone and let their blood paint the earth he's standing on.
V whips toward me, pinning me down in a wild, animalistic gaze.
"Why is your dress ripped?! Didn't you learn anything from yesterday when I told you to fight back? Kir, I can't believe you let yourself get violated for two—"
I cut him off quickly, before the conversation got awkward. "No, it wasn't me who got violated. There was a girl-" I stop as I realize what V had just said to me. "My dress is ripped?"
Indeed, I find the silk is torn in a jagged half at the bottom of my dress, slitting all the way to my knees. The neckline is loose from the harsh pull, because my right shoulder is completely revealed and exposed for the world to see.
I immediately know what caused the dress to rip. "I- I kind of tripped on the dress train. I think that's what made it to rip." With a sigh, V throws the dark jacket around my revealed skin. Honestly speaking, I'm surprised at his reaction. Hundred and ten percent, I'd expected him to get annoyed at my clumsiness or get angry that I had made such a big mistake in front of the opponent.
But his eyes don't spark with the usual venom I'm expecting. In its place, there's only exhaustion and something else that I can't really pinpoint.
I immediately want to laugh at myself at the unimaginable assumption.
V? Exhausted?
That's impossible.
I look up at V again, drawing the jacket around myself. It's warm with his heat, and only then I realize how my bare shoulders and arms have been bothering me the entire time.
He looks back down at me, and something flashes in his eyes, quick and vicious. Then he sighs again and grabs me firmly, yet gentle, by the arm.
"Let's go." He says. "I don't want you to stay here any longer." As we pass the king and queen, V bids them a quick farewell, so natural that we simply looked like two people retiring to their rooms.
But of course, that's not true.